


Android In A Winter Wonderland

by ThatScottishShipper



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas market, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Gift Exchange, Grief/Mourning, Ice Skating, Light Angst, Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, dont post to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:48:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21956149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatScottishShipper/pseuds/ThatScottishShipper
Summary: Connor wants to experience the winter holiday. Hank wants to reconnect with the holiday again.Hank and Connor visit the Detroit Christmas Faire together, slowly realising that their feelings for each other might not be one sided.Unashamed Christmas Fluff ensued.*Written for DBH Secret Santa 2019.*
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 10
Kudos: 57





	Android In A Winter Wonderland

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aliensandcryptids](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aliensandcryptids/gifts).



Hank had no freaking idea why he was doing this.

Honestly, he hadn’t been back to the Downtown Detroit Christmas Market in  _ years _ . Regular as clockwork, the festive market winter wonderland set up from November 13th to January 1st, regurgitating Christmas cheer on the former Motor City.

The Lieutenant flinched, nearly blinded by newly installed red and green LEDs that projected hologram Santa’s and holly wreaths  _ everywhere _ .

Originally, vendors set up wooden stands with glass huts in Cadillac Square and Capitol Park, protecting them from the harsh Detroit elements. It gave warning protection to the public admiring wares and indulging in treats.

By 2038, the market space was limited somewhat, businesses taking a big hit, but with CyberLife’s  _ generous _ endorsement (Hank sneered,) the glass bubbles securing businesses and patrons continued. It was something of a whole giving-back-to-the-community noise after the whole bad press involving Deviants and unemployment racket.

Hank still thought the whole thing was a bogus PR stunt to recoup their losses, and scramble back trust.

_ ‘Whatever,’  _ Hank growled to himself.  _ ‘They’re still free.’ _

He gazed over at Connor, whose back was to him, observing the bustling market place with invested interest.

_ ‘He’s still free…’ _

The sharp sounds of screaming, noisy people alone knocked him off kilter, sending his nerves into overdrive. It made him want to head for home, and curl up on the couch with his dog, Sumo.

Why didn’t he, then?

“Lieutenant.”

_ Oh _ , of course.  _ That’s _ why.

Hank sighed, hands in his pocket, watching his Android Partner take in the market. Connor smiled the warmest smile, and Hank was a sucker for it.

“Yeah?” Hank tried to ignore the thundering beating of his heart matched only by the nearby amusement rides.

Inside Connor’s system, a swirl of first hand senses consumed him. Messages flooded his HUD, alerting him to every conceivable sight, scent, and sound within the immediate area.

Every piece of music analysed, every morsel of food scrutinised by his delicate senses, and his optical biocomponents breaking down every single human and Android to their identity.

It was almost overwhelming.

Almost.

There was something infectious about his surroundings, the posititivity radiating from everything. It was like being surrounded by an army of Jerrys (of which Connor saw a few running stands.)

Hardly a surprise.

“Shall we investigate, Lieutenant?” Connor attempted to correct himself. “To dissuade trouble as members of law enforcement?”

Hank grinned at Connor’s lack of subtlety. “You’re the boss.”

xxx

Inside Cadillac Square, Hank and Connor strolled together, whisking between crowds of excited festival goers. Each bubbled booth was transparent and heated, offering warmth to all visitors.

“Like an incubator,” Connor noted, making Hank think of an entire cluster of Detroiters as geese.  _ ‘Guess that makes me the grumpy, killjoy farmer. _

_ Heh _ .’

They past so many stands, only to come across Detroit Fiber Works, still in business.

Hank felt a pang of nostalgia at the sight of hand-dyed fabric and artwork, including knitted hats. He wondered if he still had his purple Pom hat with the twin braids trailing down the back?

Cole loved that thing.

He was brought back to reality by woolly warmth being brought down upon his head. By Connor.

“It suits you, Lieutenant.”

Hank gazed in the mirror, staring at his bearded self wearing a knitted santa hat. He humphed. “Huh. Didn’t you say we were gonna patrol?”

A small smile graced Connor’s face. “Who says we couldn’t go undercover?”

“As Santa?”

“You do match the look.” Connor smiled fondly, reaching over to scratch Hank’s chin. “Especially with the beard.”

When Hank’s heart fluttered, Connor’s analytics caught it, and pulled back embarrassingly, his LED flashing yellow. “My apologies, Lieutenant. I…”

Hank grunted. “Only if you play the part too, Connor. I’m not strolling around like a loser by myself, y’know.”

Connor beamed head, popping the first hat nearby onto his head (a reindeer hat with bells attached to the antlers,) and smiling at Hank. “Whatever you say, Lieutenant.”

Berating himself for finding Connor so cute in that stupid hat, Hank playfully patted the Android’s back, urging him onward. “Onward, Prancer.”

The RK800 adjusted his tie, trailing behind his Partner. “Actually, Lieutenant, I believe this reindeer is modelled on Rudolph, judging by the precision knitted red nose.”

Against his desire to Scrooge his way through another holiday, Hank chuckled to himself.

Connor’s LED flickered, his complex mind pulling up his favourite file to hand, the documented data he began to accumulate on Hank Anderson, which grew a little larger every day.

**[Hank’s laughter is an indicator of elevated cheerfulness, accompanied by a genuine smile.**

**In social relations, conveying a sense of being relaxed and trust in his company.]**

His thirium pump quickened, and he assured himself it was in service of regulating his temperature system.

He amended his records next to his very first personally assigned goal as a Deviant.

**[Mission_Update.**

**Make Hank happy.**

**New_Encourage Hank to laugh more.]**

Connor tucked the freshly updated memory file away, and pranced after the Lieutenant, causing Hank to smirk.

_ ‘What’d I tell him? Total Prancer.’ _

They kept walking along, trying to avoid the busy onslaught of people. Hank hated the hustling hoards, his temperature spiking, and Connor sensed it. His first instinct, as they approached the holistic bath and body care products, was to take hold of his hand.

Hank’s heart stuttered, and he looked at him. Connor simply said, “to play the part… Hank.”

Before Hank could utter a single word, Connor tuned him towards another stand, drawn to the very familiar sight of collars, squeaky toys and bone shaped biscuits in jars.

The business simply said 3Dogs1Cat, a pet product retailer.

“While we’re here, shouldn’t we bring something back for Su… _our_ dog?”

‘ _Our dog.’_ Hank liked the sound of that. “Sure thing.”

It didn’t stop there. Huts upon huts were filled with all sorts, from vintage scented candles and glassware, to handcrafted goods for the home, such as stitched pillows and Moroccan style lampshades.

When Connor came to the crystal shop, his brown eyes lit up, analysing every piece carefully.

**[Rose Quartz. Malachite. Sliced Agate…]**

As Hank admired the Celtic jewellery, he noticed that Connor had his eyes on something in particular.

A small black crystal rabbit with white splotches.

Connor was unsure why he liked the **[Snowflake Obsidian]** crystal rabbit so much. It just resonated with him in a manner beyond rational thought.

Before he could walk away, Hank bought it, and gifted the tiny rabbit to Connor. He was very grateful, holding the tiny crystal creature to his chest.

“Thank you. I shall treasure him always.”

A short time later, Connor said out the blue, “You must be hungry.”

As if on cue, Hank’s stomach growled, and he flushed, looking away from Connor, who smiled.

“I understand the Cadillac Lodge has some refreshments. Care to accompany me, Lieutenant?”

xxx

Hank flopped down with a world weary sigh into a plush couch, which soothed his aching back.

His Partner had made the right call taking a break at the Cadillac Lodge, a toasty getaway slap bang in the middle of the market. Connor had even located two seats together, and was off to ‘procure some snacks.’

Even from his soft sinking seat, Hank smelled the wondrous aroma of buttered pastries and sinfully sweet delights. They had always concocted holiday-themed drinks, so he was intrigued to see what Connor brought back.

Tiny reindeer bells heralded his Android Partner’s arrival, along with two big white cups, a plate of  _ something _ and a smile that widened at the sight of Hank. The Lieutenant’s stomach flipped at the sight of him.

Connor sat down with Hank, the sinking plushed cushions causing their hips to touch. A fleeting moment existed between them, eyes meeting in a strange, confusing exchange, before Connor handed him his drink.

“...I’m sorry about the wait,” he said softly. “Here’s your drink, Lieutenant.”

As Hank graciously took the cup, he noted that Connor didn’t shift back.  _ ‘Interesting.’  _ The warm winter beverage brought life to Hank’s hands, the chocolate aroma wafting into his nostrils, and filling him with a sense of nostalgia.

He used to love hot chocolate. When did he give that up?

“Thanks, Con. Surprised you're not giving me a tongue lashing about calories or whatever.” When Hank took his first testing sip, he  _ transcended _ . The milk swirling in the heart of the hot chocolate, the lingering taste of salted caramel, and the whipped cream offered a heavenly experience.

Hank sighed blissfully.

“It is the holiday season, and a special time for treating oneself, is it not?” Connor then placed the plate he had been carrying, revealing two sticks skewering strawberries, drizzled with chocolate.

“You’re spoiling me,” Hank said with a smile, only to suddenly feel Connor’s fingers brushing against his bearded chin.

The gentleness of Connor’s touch shocked him, his big blue eyes gazing in surprise at his companion. His heart fluttered, face flushing. Connor had to know what he was doing, and the affect it was having?

“The cream, Lieutenant,” Connor explained, pulling back, with a nagging desire to touch him again.

“Ah.” The dream burst, and Hank felt like an idiot. His attention drifted towards Connor’s cup, filled to the brim with an entirely different concoction. “Got yourself something too?”

Connor nodded. “Yes. It is something like the Android equivalent to what you are consuming.” His blue LED processed his words, and he corrected himself. “ _ Drinking _ . Although it is a thirium based drink, it allows Androids to blend into social situations, and take part.”

“A blue hot chocolate.” Hank took a big bite out of the chocolate strawberries on a stick. “And what’s your verdict?”

Again, Connor reflected upon Hank’s question, understanding that his opinion was being valued. That importance felt  _ good _ , the RK800 decided.

“It is agreeable,” Connor concluded, glimpsing fondly Hank’s way. “But it is my personal theory that the  _ company _ makes it so, Lieutenant.”

Hank’s heartbeat quickened, like a rabbit’s foot. His mouth stopped half chew, and his jaw tightened.

“Well, you’re not so bad yourself,” Hank replied, hastily amending his words with a fluster. “C-Company, I mean.”

Connor smiled. “I’m happy to hear that, Lieutenant.”

xxx

After their little break, Hank and Connor recommenced their rounds. Connor admired the collection of artisan cheeses, cured meats, locally made jam, and chocolate goodies, all while Hank’s mouth drooled.

Eventually, Connor came to a halt, attracted to the rows upon rows of Christmas trees inside a fenced area. A nursery of Christmas trees, where Detroiters took home leftover trees for their homes, and wreaths for the front doors.

Some even had decorations, twinkling fairy lights and decorations being sold elsewhere in the market.

However, for Hank, these trees triggered memories of a child, tugging him excitedly towards the spread of green. He blinked, eyes stinging.

When he turned to his Partner, Connor saw the redness in those crystal blue eyes, and his chest felt tight. His optical nerves became irritated with no identifiable cause, but the Deviant came to a wagered guess.

_ Sadness _ .

“Hank, I-”

Touched by Connor’s consideration and how comforting his own name sounded to him, the Lieutenant shook his head, patting his Partner’s back. “No need. Don’t you remember, Con? Our lil’ spruce?”

As Hank sauntered off, calling for Connor to follow, the Android stood perfectly still, processing Hank’s words carefully.

**[Our lil’ spruce?**

**Our spruce?**

**Our.]**

Connor buffed.

**[Ours. Something belonging to us.]**

Hank finally acknowledged it, the open secret, a dusty, battered old box designated to the darkest confines of his closet. Like his holiday spirit.

It had been a subject Connor hoped to approach, but he did not wish to impose in Hank’s home.

He kept the impulse to free the poor tree from its prison, switch off his instructional protocol, and jazz up the bare branches while Hank was out. A star on the summit, tinsel trailing down the green body, shiny baubles of every shape and colour absorbing the glow from the nearby fireplace.

Sumo  _ trying _ to help.

But the fear of upsetting Hank dissuaded Connor from trying to surprise him.

And now, Hank talked of  _ their _ tree,  _ their _ own little spruce waiting to be showered with seasonal love. His brown eyes still stinged with an overflow of lubricant, but his smile soothes him.

“Of course.”

Meanwhile, Hank weakened underneath Connor’s radiant smile, realising how much this meant to him. That Connor  _ wanted _ to do this more for Hank than himself.

Being appreciated so unconditionally was a festive gift all on its own.

_ ‘Who knew the Spirit of Present came in Android form?’ _

xxx

In the Campus Martius, in the middle of Woodward Avenue, Connor stood by a rink, mesmerised by the solid ice surrounded by skyscrapers.

In every leaf bare tree, blue and golden fairy lights filled the emptiness, and a giant Christmas tree rested at the north of the ice skating rink, decorated with beautiful star like lighting.

Hank whistled. A 60ft Norwegian Spruce. Traditional as always, but no idea where they keep fishing that from.

The Android blinked rapidly, accessing his internal clocking system.

**[9PM. An hour before the Frankenmuth Rink closes.]**

“It’s getting late, Lieutenant,” Connor informed Hank. “Would you like to try one more activity before we head for home?”

Hank grew nervous. It had been a long time since he had been ice skating, and he feared being showed up by not Connor, but the other human skaters. But his Partner’s eager smile proved helpless to resist.

Like a robo poodle.

He slapped $20 onto the counter table, and a cheerful Jerry offered them a pair of skating boots each.

xxx

Much to Hank’s surprise, he still had it.

Drifting across the frozen ice gracefully, the Lieutenant kept up with Connor’s natural ability, something the Android appreciated.

“Good form, Lieutenant,” Connor complemented, skating by his side.

“Hey, I’m not a  _ total _ waste of space,” Hank said without reservation. “Twenty percent cool on a good day.”

His self-deprecating humour came out so naturally that regret tended to follow, especially around Connor. Before he span around to apologise, Connor’s hand found his.

“Hank,” Connor said sympathetically, squeezing his hand. “You’re not a waste of space. And strictly speaking, as an Android, you should leave the percentage calculation to me.”

Hank’s heart soared at how gentle Connor’s hands were, the same Android that could break him easily. “Okay. I’ll leave the maths to you.”

“Thank you.” Connor smirked. “A solid eighty percent seems reasonable.”

_ ‘Eighty, huh? We’ll see about that.’ _

Suddenly, Hank accelerated, effortlessly gliding Connor with him. Startled by the swift change in speed and movement, Connor was nevertheless…  _ impressed _ by how easily the Lieutenant moved across the ice.

**[Update. Lieutenant Hank Anderson is full of surprises.]**

Unbeknownst to Hank, Connor deactivated his pre construction software, falling helplessly into the winter wonderland.

And Hank’s big strong arms when he pulled Connor in, spinning them together in the center of the rink.

Connor’s blue ring pulsated, and he was drawn into Hank’s irresistible blue eyes.

Suddenly, everything grew brighter, and the deafening crowds dimmed, fading away into the dizzying blurred background because the only thing that mattered was Connor and Hank.

Standing in the midst of it all, with a warm genuine smile, was the Android Hank had come to know, and changed his life for the better. Against the twinkling Christmas lights cast among a warm glow, only Connor existed, a beacon of light in an otherwise crappy world.

‘No,’ Hank corrected himself.  _ ‘Even the world isn’t as crappy with Connor in it.’ _

As the spinning slowed, Connor’s system was lagging under the weight of all these emotions. Warnings regarding fluctuating thirium pump levels, and excess chemicals flooding him with something beyond algorithms did little to deter Connor away from this picture perfect scene.

As the pirouette ended, bringing the dance to a natural conclusion, they still embraced, gazing affectionately into each other’s eyes. They understood. Slowly, as Hank lowered his head, Connor tipped on his toes to meet him halfway.

The clock chimed, the snow slowly began to fall, and their lips finally met, a jolt of wonder accompanying the warmth that evaporated the Detroit nippy chill. A hand held the back of his head, deepening the kiss, and Connor’s sensory system worked onto overtime, analysing every little thing on the Lieutenant’s dry lips.

**[Strawberries. Milk chocolate. Semi-skimmed milk. Cocoa powder. Salted caramel extract.**

**Hank.**

**Hank. Hank.**

**HankHankHankHankHankHank]**

When Hank pulled back, Connor’s lips were smooth white, the artificial skin rippling with a blue energy where the chassis greeted him.

Surprised, Connor held a hand to his lips, trying to cover the whiteness there, but Hank pulled the Android’s hand away, holding it close to his blushing cheek.

“Don’t worry, honey,” Hank whispered. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

“Nor you, Hank,” Connor responded, quietly stealing another soft kiss.

The square in the clock rang ten times, announcing the closure of the Detroit Christmas Faire for another day. But for Hank and Connor, holding hands as they left Cadillac Square, heading for home, there was no end to this world of discovery between them.

For Christmas, two hearts were given, and Hank received an extra present he never expected to receive again in his life.

A second chance.

**Author's Note:**

> My Detroit Become Human Secret Santa fill for letsgodeviants. Prompt was Hankcon, something winter/Christmas related.
> 
> The first thing that came to mind for this prompt was a Christmas Faire. Big inspiration came from the Edinburgh Christmas market that comes every year, and I go to. However, I also did research on real Detroit markets, and took a lot of details from the Cadillac market (like the glass bubbles sheltering the stalls, the ice rink, even the names of stalls.)
> 
> The snowflake obsidian rabbit is something I actually bought from the Christmas market as the crystal stand is one of my favourites. Salted caramel hot chocolate is also the bomb, and I’m a big sucker for salted caramel.
> 
> And yes, Hank was referencing Untitled Goose Game and MLP. Because Millennial Hank is the win. 👍🏻
> 
> Thank you very much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. 💙


End file.
